


The Photos

by dovahgriin



Series: Mystic [4]
Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Embarrassing Photos, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Language, POV Second Person, Present Tense, Prompt Fill, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, myspace - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovahgriin/pseuds/dovahgriin
Summary: You, Eddie, Mystic and Vee look at Eddie’s old MySpace pictures.





	The Photos

**Author's Note:**

> based off of a prompt received from @ollies-outies on tumblr — thanks for the inspo, babe!

“So… Eddie. Edster. Light of my life. Ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. I was going through MySpace the other day…” You lean over the back of the couch of your living room, holding your phone up between your thumb and forefinger. Eddie doesn’t even look up from his laptop; he’s in the writing zone. “Eddie. Eddie Brock, pay attention to me. I’ve found very important photographic evidence of your sordid past.”

“Mmhm…” He clickety-clacks away on the keyboard. You huff in genuine annoyance.

_Rude._

**we** **_could_ ** **scare him.**

_… How do you propose we do that?_

**… haven’t thought that far ahead.**

_Damn. Might’ve been a good way to get his attention, honestly._

**we could also tempt him with… things.**

_Oooh, like that leftover cake from the bridal shower!_

**was thinking more along the lines of sex.**

_What-? You’re insatiable. We_ just _fucked this morning._

**no such thing as too much sex.**

_Technically, there actually is. Psychologically._

**… fine. use the cake.**

_I’ll make it up to you, doll, promise!_

You skip to the kitchen, tripping on the hem of your loose flannel pajama bottoms. Mystic catches you before you faceplant into the countertop.

**careful, lamb.**

“Thanks, baby,” you whisper, kissing your hand where she’s wrapped over your skin. She vibrates in response, a pleased little thrill that travels up your spine. The pressure on your hand increases briefly, like she’s pressing a kiss of her own against your knuckles.

**you are welcome.**

Giddy, you hum happily under your breath, half-mouthing, half-mumbling nonsense words to a nonsense tune as you dig through the boxes upon boxes of leftover takeout in your refrigerator. The cake is on a little Dixie plate and covered with saran wrap. A box of Chinese food — that you probably should have thrown out a while ago — squished half of it flat, but that doesn’t really matter in the long run. _Chocolate is chocolate, right?_

You’re a bit worried that it might taste a bit like old ginger noodles, and scoop a bit onto your finger to taste. Nope. Still very chocolate-y. Mystic whines in your head.

**i want some, too.**

_Nope, this is now a bribe cake._ **We** _don’t eat bribe cakes. I’ll bake you your own cake on the weekend, okay? I’ll even make that buttercream frosting that you were drooling over last time._

**fine** **.**

You sashay back into the living room, sniffing exaggeratedly at the dessert. “Oh, man, this cake smells _delicious._ So, so good,” you hum, flopping down next to Eddie. Venom rumbles beneath his shirt, a decidedly Not-Eddie sound.

Eddie’s nose twitches. You cheer internally. _Come on, come on, look away from the laptop for one goddamn minute._

Venom sprouts from Eddie’s shoulder like a weed. **“Chocolate?”**

“ _Yes,_ Vee, _chocolate._ I was going to give it to you and Eddie _if_ _he’d just pay attention to me for two minutes.”_ You level a steely look at Eddie. Venom’s waspish eyes widen slightly, then narrow in amusement.

 **“I can help with that.”** He licks a long, wet line up the side of Eddie’s face. The reporter grimaces, pausing in his writing to scrub at the drool with his sleeve.

“Eugh. Gross, man. Don’t - don’t _do_ that.”

 **“The young ones have something for us, if you pay attention to them.”** The expression on your face when Eddie turns to face you is distinctly unimpressed. His attention is immediately drawn to the cake in your hand.

“‘S that for me — us?”

“It is… _if_ you can give me some juicy details about these.”

Eddie blinks as you wave your phone in his face. “That’s… your phone.”

If your eyes roll any harder than they already are, they can and _will_ fall out of your skull. “Yeah, I know _that,_ silly. Look at the — oh, damn, one sec.” You set the plate down on the coffee table so that you can unlock your phone. The screen turns on again, illuminating your face. “Augh, that’s bright. Okay, here.”

You hand Eddie your cell phone, bouncing on the balls of your feet. A mosaic of selfies takes up most of the webpage, with the MySpace header at the very top. Eddie lets out a whistle.

“How long did it take you to find this, Sunshine?” He looks impressed.

“Not long, actually.” The impressed expression drops. Now he just looks like he ate a whole lemon. “Come on, don’t give me that face! It’s not that hard to find people online nowadays, old man.”

**“tell us about the pictures, eddie.”**

He raises an eyebrow at Mystic. “What, no magic word?”

 **“no.”** Eddie sighs. Venom chuckles, a rumbly sound that you can physically feel through the couch.

“Alright, alright. Gather ‘round, children, et cetera.” You wriggle closer to Eddie, sliding beneath his arm as you sit criss-cross-applesauce (it feels like you’re back in grade school again; you’re not sure how to feel about that, honestly). “So this one,” he tilts the phone screen so that you and Mystic can see better, “was from my eighteenth birthday. I, uh. Got a hold of some of my old man’s whiskey, and, well… you can see how _that_ turned out.”

Humming in response, you nod. You can indeed see how it turned out. In the blurry photo, Eddie has a sort of dazed expression on his face, dopey grin and all. His shirt is on backwards. He doesn’t have either of his sleeve tattoos in this one. You frown at the image. There’s… a bruise on his right cheekbone in the photo. Eddie doesn’t notice your change in expression (or just doesn’t acknowledge it). You resolve not to bring it up, the thought of where that conversation might lead making your guts twist unpleasantly.

“This one,” he says, flicking to the next photo, “is from my old boss’s son’s twenty… second?… birthday.”

You whistle long and low. The picture is… _well._ Eddie cleans up real nice — or, he used to. You’re not sure if he even owns one nice article of clothing any longer. The sleeves of the black jacket he had on are rolled up, baring his forearms.

“You look… really, really good in this. Not that you don’t usually, but, um…” you trail off, unsure of where you were planning to go with the sentence.

 **“smooth,”** Mystic mutters next to your ear.

“Shut up.”

Eddie laughs, shoulders bouncing. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? This next one… ah. Well. I was young. And dumb.”

 **“And naked,”** Venom helpfully supplies.

“... yes. And naked.”

A small smirk curves your lips as you look at the image on your phone screen. Venom isn’t lying — Eddie is _very_ naked in the picture. He looks extremely content. You trace his form with your eyes, starting at his outstretched fingers before moving down his arms to his unmarked shoulders and down his spine. Following the line of his back, your gaze then moves further down to… you snort. “Heh. Bubble butt.”

Eddie elbows you as you cackle. “Shut up. You _like_ my bubble butt.”

 **“we do,”** Mystic agrees.

“Wait, who took this picture? There’s no way someone else _isn’t_ holding the camera to get this angle.” Eddie flushes prettily under your questioning look, avoiding your eyes.

“It, uh. It was taken by a one night stand I had in college. He taught me how flexible I can really be.”

“A ‘he’, hm? Was he any good?”

“For my first time taking dick? Yeah, he was. Real gentle about it, too. Made my toes curl.” A nostalgic smile curves his mouth.

“I’m glad your first experience was so good for you,” you say sincerely, nudging Eddie with your elbow. He squeezes your shoulders in a one-armed hug.

The next (and final) photo is one that has you coughing into your hand, unsuccessfully trying to hide your amusement. In it, Eddie is holding the camera in one hand above his head while the other is _down his pants._ He’s making the _duck face,_ of all things.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, slapping at your chest. “Oh my god. Eddie, why the duck face, Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “Because I thought it looked good at the time? I don’t know. I was, what, twenty five? Maybe?” Sighing, he shakes his head. “Like I said earlier, in a lot of these I was young and dumb.”

“It’s just…” you raise your eyebrows as you give Eddie some serious side eye. “It just looks so _extra,_ you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

 **“What’s ‘extra’ mean, Eddie?”** Venom lazily curls around Eddie’s bicep, blinking inquisitively.

“Oh, um… it’s like, if something or someone is extra, they’re being over the top, I guess? Dramatic.”

 **“so, like venom’s reaction to pepsi?”** You choke on your own spit. Eddie stifles a grin.

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> side note: I couldn’t stop giggling when I went to look at Tom Hardy’s MS pictures for inspiration.


End file.
